Between the Plums

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Between the Plums Page 26

by Janet Evanovich


  “That was lucky,” Lula said. “We caught a scumbag. And we didn’t even kill him.”

  The casino was relatively empty when we returned to the gaming floor. The day-players were settling themselves into their buses. The night-timers were sitting in traffic on the Parkway. Attendants quietly swept carpets and collected empty glasses. The big Daffy Dog was silent.

  “I’m going to the café for a burger,” Lula said. “How about you?”

  “I need to get back to Grandma. I left her alone with the money.”

  I hustled back to the gaming floor, and I saw Briggs before I saw Grandma. He was standing behind her, as always, but he wasn’t guarding the duffel bag. Grandma was playing the poker machine, and Briggs was back on his heels, looking bored. And the duffel bag was missing.

  “Where’s the money?” I asked him.

  “I put it in the hotel vault,” Briggs said.

  “It’s not like I could spend it,” Grandma said, punching the PLAY button. “I figured I might as well put it away where it was safe. Then Randy don’t have to carry that big heavy bag around. We’re almost done here anyway. It’s amazing how fast you can go through a thousand dollars when you got the knack for it.”

  “Have you won anything?”

  “Not a darn nickel. It’s just as good, though, on account of I want to get back to the room to watch some television. Starting at seven o’clock, there’s reruns of Dancing with the Stars.”

  I left Grandma and Briggs and walked over to Snuggy and Diesel. Snuggy was playing blackjack, and Diesel was standing behind him.

  “How’s it going?” I asked Diesel.

  “I don’t think it looks good for the horse.”

  “Snuggy hasn’t got a lot of chips in front of him.”

  “He consistently gets great cards, but he’s the worst blackjack player ever.”

  “Why don’t you want to play?” I asked Diesel.

  “Can’t. I’ve won here too many times. If I sit down, I’ll be asked to leave.”

  “They can do that?”

  “They think I cheat,” Diesel said.

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah.” Diesel smiled down at me. “I liked the tag team wrestling exhibition.”

  “You could have helped!”

  “You were doing okay without me. Who was the guy you took down?”

  “Billy Major. He’s a Trenton pimp who got caught in a drug sting. Vinnie bonded him out, and then Major failed to appear for a court appearance. It was dumb luck that Connie spotted him.”

  Snuggy was fidgeting in his seat and cracking his knuckles. Nervous. Knowing he was screwing up. He had only a few chips left.

  “This is painful,” I said to Diesel. “He should be playing something that’s pure chance.”

  “There are decisions to be made with all the games,” Diesel said. “Even with slots. And he’s incapable of making a good decision.”

  Lula huffed up to us, clearly on a rant, hands waving in the air. “This place is fixed,” Lula said. “I guess I know when I’m hot. And I was hot. And I lost. How could that be? I got a mind to report this to someone.” She looked over at Snuggy. “Don’t look like he’s doing too good, either. I tell you, this place is rigged. Where’s Grandma?”

  “She went back to her room to watch a Dancing with the Stars retrospective.”

  “No kidding? I love that show. Maybe I should go watch with her. I think I got high blood pressure from losing all that money. I got a headache. What kind of headache do you get from high blood pressure? Is it on the top of your head? Is it behind your left eyeball? Does it go down the back of your neck? I got all of those. Maybe I’m having a stroke. Is anything sagging on me?”

  “Not that I can see,” I told her. Thanks to the miracle of spandex.

  Lula left, and I cut my eyes to Diesel.

  “Don’t give me that look,” Diesel said. “She asked about sagging, and I didn’t say anything.”

  “You were thinking.”

  “Now you’re a mind reader?”

  “It was flashing in neon across your forehead.”

  Diesel grabbed me and hugged me to him. “Cute.”

  The night crowd was beginning to filter into the casino. Young singles coming directly from work. Older couples in that awkward age, caught between assisted living and the family home in suburbia. Hard-core addicted gamblers who had spent all day sleeping off a hangover and were now ready to repeat the last night’s disaster. The noise level rose and dealers notched up the action.

  “That’s it,” Snuggy said, pushing back from the table. “I’m done. I lost all my money. I feel terrible.”

  A cocktail waitress sidled up to Diesel. “Can I get you something? Anything?”

  “No,” Diesel said, “but thanks for asking.”

  I did an eye roll, and the waitress sashayed away.

  “How are we going to get the money for Doug?” Snuggy asked. “We only have until three o’clock tomorrow.”

  “I know we all like Doug,” Diesel said. “But maybe it’s his time.”

  Snuggy looked horrified, and I smacked Diesel on the back of his head.

  “He’s a horse,” Diesel said. “Do you know how many horses you could buy for a quarter of a million? Lots. And they could be under the hood of a car.”

  “There are a bunch of casinos here,” I said. “Surely one of them would let you play.”

  “Sorry, sugar. I’m persona non grata. These casinos put me through M.I.T.”

  I was speechless. “You graduated from M.I.T.?” I finally managed.

  “Just because I’m big doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  “You look like a street person.”

  “I like to be comfortable. Anyway, lots of women think I’m sexy like this.” He smiled and ruffled my hair. “Not you, maybe, but lots of other women.”

  I did another eye roll.

  “You keep doing that and you’re gonna shake something loose in there,” Diesel said.

  “So you haven’t always chased after bad guys?”

  “I started doing this in my teens. Mostly part-time.”

  “Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

  “Yeah, except I don’t mess with vampires. And I think Buffy might not be real.”

  “And you’re real?”

  “As real as a guy could get.”

  “Okay, great. Now we’ve established we’re all real,” Snuggy said. “Could we get back to the Doug problem?”

  “I need an off-site poker game,” Diesel said. “Private. High-stakes party.”

  Snuggy pumped his fist into the air. “Yes! I knew you’d come through. You guys stay here and I’ll find a game. I’ll ask around.”

  “You aren’t going to take off on me, are you?” Diesel asked Snuggy. “Because I’d track you down and find you and the rest wouldn’t be pretty.”

  “You got my word.”

  “Your word isn’t worth squat,” Diesel said. “Just remember my promise. Make sure no one in the game knows me. And find out if they’re checking guns at the door.”

  “Okay, got that,” Snuggy said. “Why do you want to know about the guns? Are you packing?”

  “No. I don’t want to get shot when I win. It hurts. We’re going to the café. You can catch me there or you can call Stephanie on her cell.”

  Snuggy wandered away and Diesel stuck his hand into my sweatshirt pocket.

  “Hey!” I said.

  “I’m looking for your voucher.”

  “I bet.”

  “I need the receipt I gave you when I cashed out the slot.”

  “I put it in my jeans pocket. I didn’t want to lose it.”

  “Even better.”

  I stepped back from him. “I can get it!”

  “You’re not a whole lot of fun,” Diesel said.

  “I have a boyfriend.”

  “And?”

  I pulled the receipt out of my pocket and gave it to Diesel. “And I don’t mess around.”

  “Admira
ble but boring.” Diesel took the receipt and towed me across the room to the cashier. “It wouldn’t kill you to flirt a little, so I don’t remember this assignment as totally sucking. I’m babysitting a guy who thinks he’s a leprechaun, and I’m rescuing a has-been horse. The least you could do is grab my ass once in a while.”

  “Suppose I just think about grabbing your ass?”

  “Better than nothing.”

  Diesel gave his receipt to the cashier and collected his winnings. “This is burger money,” Diesel said, draping an arm across my shoulders, moving me toward the café.

  5

  We were finishing burgers and fries when Snuggy rolled into the café.

  “I got you into a game,” Snuggy said. “It’s at Caesars, but it’s not got anything to do with the hotel. Strictly private party. Lots of money involved. Starts at ten.” He gave Diesel a slip of paper. “Here’s the room number, and the guy’s name. You ask for him, and they’ll let you in. You gotta have ten thousand to start.”

  I looked over at Diesel. “Do you have ten thousand?”

  “Not yet.”

  “How are you going to get it?”

  “I’ll take it out of the money in the duffel bag.”

  Snuggy looked over his shoulder, back at the entrance to the café.

  “Is there a problem?” Diesel asked.

  Snuggy dragged his attention back to us. “No. Everything’s good.”

  A half hour later, we were knocking on Grandma’s door.

  “You’re just in time,” Lula said, letting us in, trotting back to the couch and wedging herself in between Grandma and Briggs. “This here’s the beginning of that show where they made what’s-her-name cry ’cause she wasn’t hot enough. And then after that one is the time the fat chick wore the ugly blue dress.”

  Diesel had his mouth to my ear. “She’s kidding, right?”

  “Don’t you watch television?”

  “Yeah. Ball games, boxing, hockey.”

  “This isn’t any of those,” I told him.

  Grandma had a two-room suite. The bedroom had a king-size bed, bureau, and two boudoir chairs. The sitting room had a large couch, a desk and chair, a comfy club chair and ottoman. The walls were butter yellow, dotted with pictures of beagles. The carpet was yellow with black dog paw prints. The draperies, couch, and chairs were done up in a yellow, orange, and white floral-print fabric. It was like the Snoopy Room at the insane asylum.

  “What do you think of the room?” Grandma asked. “Don’t you think it’s cheery?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Very cheery.”

  Diesel was back at my ear. “If I stay in here too long, I’ll have a seizure.”

  “We came to get some money from the bag,” I said. “Diesel needs it.”

  “You have to wait,” Briggs said. “I don’t want to miss this part. The money’s all the way down in the vault. You have to go to the desk, and they take you down two flights, where they’ve got safety deposit boxes for hotel guests. It’s a whole big deal. It’ll take a half hour, and I’ll miss the rest of the show.”

  “Can I get the money?” Diesel asked.

  “No. I put the money in, and I’m the only one who can get the money out. You need a picture ID, and they do a fingerprint scan. It’s like Fort Knox.”

  “What kind of show is this?” Diesel asked. “They’re dancing.”

  “Dancing with the Stars,” I told him. “Dancing with the Stars.”

  “I’d jump off a cliff if I had to watch this every week.”

  “Suppose you got to eat birthday cake while you watched it?”

  “That would help,” Diesel said, “but it wouldn’t close the deal.”

  “This is over at nine o’clock,” Briggs said. “Can you wait until then?”

  “I guess,” Diesel said.

  “I’m staying here,” Snuggy said. “I like this show.”

  I pushed in next to Grandma. “Me, too.”

  “Do these dancers ever hit each other?” Diesel asked.

  “No.”

  “Then I’m gonna pass. I’ll be back at nine.”

  It was nine o’clock and Briggs was ready to go. Grandma was asleep in her bedroom. Lula and Snuggy were watching SPEED channel.

  Diesel knocked once and opened the door.

  “Why do you knock here, but you just pop into my apartment unannounced?” I asked him.

  “I don’t want to chance seeing some of these people naked. You’re not one of them.”

  “Let’s move,” Briggs said. “I got a date tonight. I don’t want to be late.”

  Diesel draped an arm across my shoulders. “I have a plan.”

  That was good since I didn’t have any plans of my own. I was tired of watching television and tired of hanging out in the casino. I didn’t have a room. I didn’t have a way to get home. I didn’t have any money. I’d called Morelli to tell him I didn’t know when I’d be back in Trenton, and I’d gotten his phone service. That meant either he was called out on a case or the Rangers were playing and the game was televised.

  “You’re going to make me look civilized,” Diesel said.

  “How much time do I have?”

  “Not enough. I just want you to come with me. I checked out the players and they’re all older, and I doubt anyone’s going to be wearing torn jeans. If I go by myself, I’ll look like a hustler. If you come along, we can role-play.” He turned to Snuggy. “You are not to leave the room. If you leave the room, I’ll send Lula out to get you. And you saw what she did to that guy in the casino.”

  Snuggy gasped and gave an involuntary shiver.

  “Yep,” Lula said to Snuggy. “I’d squash you like a bug if I had to.”

  Diesel, Briggs, and I took the elevator and walked across the casino floor to the front desk. Briggs flashed his ID and asked to see his safety deposit box. He was ushered into a back room, and the door closed behind him.

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I hauled it out and looked at the number display. Blocked. Most likely Morelli or Ranger.

  “Yep?” I said into the phone.

  “Your car’s at the bonds office, and the electronics in your purse tell me you’re in Atlantic City. Are you okay?”

  It was Ranger. Ranger’s former Special Forces, now turned security expert. Our history together isn’t all that long, and it’s hard to say how our future relationship will go. Ranger’s personality and skin tone run several shades darker than Morelli’s. He’s a little bigger, got a little more bulk to his muscle. His hair is brown and currently cut short, and his eyes are black. And with or without clothes, he’s a heart-stopper.

  In the past, I’ve gotten myself into some precarious situations, and Ranger now feels compelled to monitor me. Since I have no control over Ranger, and because sometimes I actually like having him watch over me, I go with it.

  “I’m here with Grandma, and Lula, and Randy Briggs, and a guy who thinks he’s a leprechaun . . . and Diesel.”

  “Babe,” Ranger said.

  “And I’m fine.”

  “Stay that way,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.

  Diesel had his thumbs hooked into his pockets. “I’m guessing that wasn’t your mother.”

  “It was Ranger.”

  “Doing a bed check?”

  “He likes to know his family is safe.”

  “And the boyfriend, Morelli?”

  “I called him earlier.”

  I’ve known Joe Morelli all my life. I know his family, his friends, his history. I know his sexual tastes, his favorite sports teams, his shoe size, his pizza preferences, his iPod playlist.

  I’ve had to judge Ranger and Diesel on actions and attitude, and touch. Ranger’s touch is firm. He feels comfortable assuming authority. Diesel’s touch is surprisingly gentle. I think Diesel is afraid he’ll leave a bruise.

  “Can you make a quarter of a million on this game?” I asked him.

  Diesel shrugged. “Hard to predict how a game will go. I’d have preferred
something with higher stakes, but this is what Snuggy found for me so I’ll do the best I can.”

  The door behind the registration desk opened, and Briggs walked out with an envelope in his hand. He gave the envelope to Diesel and answered his cell phone.

  “I’m on my way,” Briggs said into his phone. He listened to something said on the other end, and he giggled. “Gotta go,” he told us. “Don’t wait up.”

  Caesars Hotel and Casino was a couple blocks north. The Boardwalk was lit, but beyond it was black ocean and sky. The surf surged onto the beach and whooshed away, sight unseen, and mist swirled around overhead lights. I found an elastic scrunchie in my bag and tied my hair back into a ponytail before it frizzed out of control.

  “The game is in a high roller suite,” Diesel said. “The suite was occupied this afternoon, so I wasn’t able to get in, but it probably has a living room area where you can hang out. Stay away from the poker table and stay awake. I’ll be John Diesel, so remember to call me John.”

  “I thought you were just Diesel?”

  “Not everyone is comfortable playing cards with a guy who has only one name.”

  The casino and shopping pier were in front of us. Professionally illuminated palaces of hope and recreation. Diesel steered me toward the shopping pier.

  “We need to glam you up a little,” he said. “The jeans are okay. The sweatshirt and sweater have to go.”

  “How about you? Are we going to glam you up?”

  “No. I’m the hedge fund guy who’s so rich he can wear whatever the hell he wants.”

  “And I’m . . .”

  “You’re the bimbo.”

  Fortunately, since I was born and raised in Trenton, I’m good at selecting bimbo clothes. I found a little white T-shirt that had SWEET THING written in sparkly pink glitter across the boobs. It was a size too small and was cut low on the top and sat an inch above my jeans to show maximum skin. I covered it with a black leather jacket that coordinated with my black-and-white Converse sneakers. I added some extra eyeliner and mascara, and I was ready to rock and roll.

  Diesel smiled when I walked out of the dressing room. “If I didn’t have to save a horse, I’d marry you.”

  “I’m not surprised. I always had you pegged for the bimbo type.”

  “Saves time,” Diesel said.

 

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